


good intentions

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4522593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adrenaline is chased by a cold flood of terror as Ward removes his hand from her mouth to search her for hidden weapons. It’s a good thing he keeps the other firmly around her waist or she might fall.</p><p>He’s supposed to be in the Vault. That he’s not, that he’s here now, can only mean calamity for her team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	good intentions

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "this is my happy face."

Jemma turns the corner into her kitchen, hoping that Chinese from the weekend is still good because she is just _not_ up to any real cooking tonight, but never makes the fridge. She has the brief impression of a dark shape to her right as the lights flick on and then strong arms are holding her to a very solid body. One hand is covering her mouth, not that it’s necessary; she isn’t about to endanger elderly Mrs. Card next door by making her a witness, and the Lees across the hall have three children whose blood she isn’t keen to have on her conscience.

Her pulse is loud in her ears but the adrenaline is already kicking in, lending her an eerie sort of calm. In it, she hears May’s voice over her shoulder, coaching her time and time and time again on how to take down an attacker in just this sort of situation.

“Calm down,” her attacker says, his grip on her gentling. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Jemma’s foot slips on his instep, having applied none of the damaging pressure she intended. Adrenaline is chased by a cold flood of terror as Ward removes his hand from her mouth to search her for hidden weapons. It’s a good thing he keeps the other firmly around her waist or she might fall.

He’s supposed to be _in the Vault_. That he’s not, that he’s here now, can only mean calamity for her team.

When his search turns up empty - she thinks longingly of her gun in her purse; those four feet around the corner might as well be a mile - he slips his arm up to her shoulders. He keeps himself between her and the knife block beside the stove as he walks her into her living room.

“You have no idea,” he says, voice pitched to an unsettlingly friendly tone, “how long I’ve been looking for you.”

He guides her in the direction of the large armchair she bought at the Salvation Army and she sits without protest. Her spirits just sink further and further. How long has he been out? Have any of her recent communications even been received? She thinks back to the last time she saw Coulson in person and tries to remember if there’s been any word around the office about SHIELD since then.

Ward is standing in the middle of her living room, smiling at her walls. “I’ve gotta say, it’s always a kick. I mean, you’re still so _you_ , but not-” His broad smile abruptly falls when it lands on her. He rounds the coffee table in two quick strides and sits on the edge of the ottoman. His hands swallow hers up, hot compared to the ice in her veins.

She forces herself to meet his eyes. “What are you going to do to me?” She always knew this mission had a high likelihood of ending in her death, that it’s going to come at Ward’s hands is no reason to lose her nerve. She’ll be strong like May taught her, like she’s sure all of them were when face to face with Ward again.

She has the rare pleasure of seeing shock overtake him briefly before he blinks it away in favor of anger. “Aw, hell.” He drops her hands to rest his on his knees. “Don’t tell me I finally find a version of you that’s HYDRA and the trade-off is _I’m_ SHIELD.”

The statement is so nonsensical that it leaves her staring, and he seems to take that as confirmation. He says something, a curse most likely, in a language she can’t identify as he stands to pace. She watches him carefully, still puzzling out what he’s said. There is a theory nipping at the back of her mind, one that is the stuff of late night talks in the boiler room. It’s the sort of thing to be joked about, never taken seriously.

“Now,” he says, coming back to join her again, “you’d think this would get easier to explain, but I’m never quite sure how you’ll-”

He cuts off as he sits because she’s grabbed his hand and tugged up his jacket sleeve as far as it will go. Even if he escaped while she was last speaking with Coulson, there is no way he could have gotten the scars from his suicide attempt removed by now. There would still be other marks, healing sutures from skin grafts and the like. But all she sees is smooth skin.

He tips his head to one side, considering her. She can see his smile is back, but can’t take her eyes off the place his scars should be. She finds herself touching the inside of his wrist almost reverently.

“I’m from another universe,” he says.

She nods dumbly. “Yes. I rather thought that might be the case.” She releases him and sits heavily back in the cushions. She should be excited, eager to learn all she can about how he came to be here, but the adrenaline is wearing off and her earlier exhaustion is settling back in. “Why are you here?” Whatever the reason, she hopes he leaves for home soon. One Grant Ward is bad enough for any universe.

“You,” he says simply. “My world is on the verge of a major crisis, one we know another world has survived thanks to you. Unfortunately, that world’s version of you was shot a few months later, so she’s out. I’ve been jumping from world to world, trying to find a version of you to help us.”

She shifts in her seat, unsettled by the idea that she - even in another universe - was killed. She chooses not to ask why he can’t simply use his _own_ version of her. “Why so many? Why not just grab the first and be done with it?”

He laughs. “You - other versions of you, anyway - tend to have pretty high moral standards. You wouldn’t believe how many tried to shoot me the second they saw me. We could kidnap one, make her more compliant-” he smiles like he’s made a joke- “but that runs the risk of making her unable to do the work we need done. Much easier to just find one who believes in HYDRA’s goals. At least we thought so at first. That was more than a dozen universes ago.”

It would be reassuring to hear that her alternate selves are so upstanding, if that hadn’t put her in such a tenuous position. Never would she have thought her trouble would be a _too_ effective cover.

“And what makes you think I’ll help _you_?” she asks, drawing on that cover now and hoping it’s enough to get her out of this mess. “I’m not loyal to HYDRA, I’m loyal to _science_. And,” she adds sharply, “even if I _were_ loyal to HYDRA, it would be this one. Not yours.” She gestures dismissively at his whole person, but it only has him smiling.

He catches her hand out of the air. His touch no longer burns her; in fact, the way his fingers trace the lines of her bones sends a jolt of pleasurable awareness straight to her core.

“I’ve missed you, Simmons,” he says softly. “Not _you_ , obviously, but still you.”

She wonders again what happened to his version of her, but more than that, she wonders why Ward would miss her and why that nostalgia would drive him to touch her double like this.

All at once he pulls her to her feet, his free hand going to her hair in a way that makes her think he’s about to kiss her. Her head tips back - on instinct or in shock, she can’t be sure - and she catches a glimpse of electrical lights in his palm. She squints, thrown by the brightness directly next to her eye, and suddenly everything is loud around her. The two of them are suspended on a broad, circular platform. It’s lit up brightly so that she can’t see beyond the edge, but the echoes indicate it to be, scientifically speaking, _big_.

The device he used to bring them here - or more likely signal that they be retrieved - is hard against her skull as he cups the back of her head. She realizes she’s clung to the front of his jacket in her disorientation and now has no space to let him go.

“You’re gonna help us,” he says lowly, “because we won’t send you back until you do. Sound good?”

He likely thinks her silence born of anger or fear over the extortion, but in reality - _this_ reality, now, and isn’t that an awkward thought - she’s terrified of whatever it is he needs her to do. He said it was to save his world, but also that _several_ loyal, SHIELD scientists refused to do so on grounds of morality. He drapes his arm over her shoulders again, guiding her to the stairs at the edge of the platform.

As her vision adjusts to the dimmer light, she sees they’re underground. _Deep_ underground based on the chill in the air. Vehicles and men move among machinery, not all of it, she thinks, meant to bring her here.

That frightening Morse woman is waiting for them on the ground. When they come within speaking distance she says, “So I guess congratulations are in order, sir?”

The show of respect is not a good sign. Anywhere Ward is worthy of a “sir” is not somewhere Jemma wants to be, in any universe.

“You see this?” Ward asks. The hand at her shoulder points. She thinks it’s directed at her until he speaks again. “ _This_ is my happy face. Congratulations are _definitely_ in order.” His hand settles on her shoulder again, holding her a little tighter to his side as they head for the nearest door.

As they pass through the cavernous space, several people stop their work momentarily, smiles appearing on their faces. She finds herself drawing closer to Ward under their scrutiny.

“We’ve been looking for you a long time,” he says. His thumb rubs soothing circles into her shoulder. “They’re eager to see this thing done.”

“And what exactly is _this_?” she asks archly.

He looks down at her as they step into the lift. Like her Ward, she has no idea what he’s thinking, but she doubts she’ll like it.

“Tomorrow,” he says, letting her go finally as the car starts moving. She stumbles away, wrapping her arms around herself to make up for the loss of warmth. “I know you just got off work, so I’ll show you your quarters and in the morning, you can start saving the world. Okay?”

Like his earlier statement, it sounds like a question, but it certainly isn’t one. They already have quarters for her; whatever this problem is, he’s not expecting her to solve it in a single night. 

She looks away, though there isn’t much to see aside from four dingy walls. She’s alone in another _universe_ with Grant Ward, who thinks she’s truly HYDRA and expects her to pull a miracle out of thin air.

In all her months undercover, she’s never missed the others more than she does now. She should have stayed, never should have left. It may have been suffocating her, day by day, to see Fitz fall further and further away from her, but at least he was there. At least she could see him and speak to him. At least she still had Skye’s hugs and May’s infrequent smiles and Coulson’s fatherly hand on her shoulder after a long day.

She turns her back to Ward, afraid she’ll cry.

Worse than missing them though, is knowing that they’re still counting on her for the intelligence only she can provide - and for their safety. If she disappears, how much danger will they put themselves in trying to rescue her from the wrong HYDRA?

A warm weight falls over her shoulders. Ward’s jacket. His palms rub heat back into her arms.

“Yeah,” he sighs, his breath stirring her hair, “you may be HYDRA, but you’re still Simmons.” He squeezes gently, just above her elbows. “You’ll feel better once you’ve slept and have something to work on.”

She pulls the jacket tighter around herself and turns to face him. “Yes,” she says, “I’m sure I will.”

He tucks some hair behind her ear and she resolutely sets aside thoughts of her doppelganger once more. She doesn’t matter and neither does Ward - _any_ Ward. All that matters is her team. She’s been making compromises for months inside HYDRA, justifying it as for the good of those she loves; she’ll walk into hell with Ward if she has to in order to get this done and get home.


End file.
